——-DISCLAIMER – this post is likely not for the weak as it contains details (nothing gory, but rather a recollection of Rex’s last hours). Don’t say you weren’t warned———
In some ways it seems like only moments ago. In others it feels like a lifetime. Either way the day has finally come. And now I must write. Not the blah blah that you’ve seen over the past few months, but honesty. Seems like it has been a while, nevertheless here we go.
I’ve read over some of the posts from this time last year. I sound so naive. So full of hope. So hopeless. Is that even possible? It seemed easy to write that we were “prepared” or whatever other word I used to describe. Was I blowing smoke? Perhaps. All I know now is that no matter what I felt then, I wish a million times over to be able to hold Rex. To watch him interact with his little sister. To play with his friends. To hug and kiss his mom. Anything. Is that cliche? This time it is the truth. No matter how much I’ve grown or learned over the past year, nothing can heal this pain and emptiness.
I think back to November 15 of last year. I know that the day was uneventful. I know that he couldn’t swallow and wasn’t very responsive. I remember him sitting in our bed and it seemed that he was staring off into nothing. And although I knew where things were headed, I really had no idea. I remember Steph’s family coming over to see him at night. At this point he didn’t do well with crowds of people so they visited him, in our bed, as small family units while Steph and I entertained in the front room. Each group only took a few minutes, but we heard that he was alert and cognizant of those people around him. I believe he was able to give/receive hugs from the cousins. By the time I got back to him he was pretty much asleep. Little did I know that would be the final opportunity to watch him lay there. I know that I gave him his medication and then went off to write a quick blog entry and then called it a night. This seemed important and the “right” thing to do at the time. Was it? Probably not. Do I have regret? Maybe I do.
The morning started off rough. I don’t recall if Anna slept well or not, and not that it would have mattered to me as I could sleep through nuclear war, but I do know that she was pretty fussy. I think I tried to get some work done, but I know that I sent some emails telling my coworkers that they would likely be covering for me for a period of time. Rex’s breathing was labored. I gave him some morphine to alleviate any pain or discomfort that he might have been having. I remember Steph holding him, rocking him, singing to him on the edge of our bed. Anna was not happy and I was focused on trying to calm her down. We called Steph’s sister to come and take the baby for us so that we could be with our boy. Was it even possible that this was it? Unfortunately (understatement of the year) it was. Rex’s breathes became fewer and farther between. At 11:15, cradled in his mother’s arms he left this world.
So much of those days are a blur to me. Maybe I got some details wrong. If so, please accept my apology. I’m sure Stephanie will let me know and maybe I’ll even edit this post with the corrections.
I am not the same person that I was one year ago. This experience has changed me. Some might say for the good, while others will definitely argue. I’m not sure myself. The roller coaster of ups and downs continues. I believe this ride will be for ever. I hope that it is. I’m afraid that if it stops that I will have forgotten and that is totally unacceptable. That little blonde-haired blue-eyed boy meant the world to me. I sure hope he knows that.
I wish I could possibly say thank you to the countless people that have been there to support us. Whether it was a meal, picking up the Coke I ordered at lunch cause I had to run to a Doctor’s appointment, donating to one of my many fundraiser requests, phone calls, text messages, prayers, or a plethora of other ways we want you to know that we are grateful for what you have done. Many of these things came as a sacrifice and I offer an apology to anyone that missed out on something at our expense. We truly are so unbelievably lucky to have the support system that we do. We could not be semi-functioning members of society today without you. We’ll continue to try and pay it forward, but please note that we appreciate from the bottom of our hearts all that you have done for us.
Please continue to pray for Oliver and Tomas. Both boys are near and dear to our hearts.
Now it is late and I should get some sleep so that I can pretend to be productive at work in a few hours.
Miss you buddy – TO ETERNITY AND BEYOND!